#5
Several months after Ghei disappeared.
Neovita had changed.
Without Devaros sustaining the resurrection system, the "second-life" people did not instantly die—but they changed. Color returned to their cheeks. Hunger and thirst returned. Dreams began to visit them at night. Like life that had been paused, now it moved again.
But with life came also the fear of death.
Aelia sat at the edge of the Silent Steppes, staring at the two moons that never moved from the sky. In her hands, she held a thin notebook—found in the ruins of Neovita's church after the Empyrean collapse earthquake subsided.
The book belonged to Ghei—or rather, to Ning Ruishen once. It had accidentally traveled to this world, tucked into a jacket pocket that had long since turned to dust.
Inside were scribbles:
"Day 73 at the factory. Calloused hands. Dreams are dead."
"Third novel finished. Publisher happy. I am empty."
"If death is like before birth, why be afraid?"
And on the last page, written larger:
"DUST AMONG THE STARS — FINAL DRAFT"
Beneath it, a short synopsis:
"About a human lost in a neutral universe, who realizes that being meaningless is not failure—it's just a state. And sometimes, that state is more honest than all tales of heroism."
Aelia flipped the page. There was an extra sheet, new writing—not from Ning Ruishen, but from Ghei, written in a fine pencil:
"I am now that dust. And finally, I am at peace."
Lyra landed beside her, her wings dusty from the journey from the city.
"Still reading?" she asked.
"Still trying to understand," Aelia replied. "He was so certain. So… calm about his choice."
"Are you jealous?"
Aelia paused. Jealous? Maybe. But more than that—she felt reminded.
She remembered when she had been trapped in the Memory-Blood crystal. A hundred years imprisoned within someone else's memories. And when freed, what she felt was not joy, but confusion.
"Lyra," she said softly, "have you ever felt… life is too long?"
Lyra tilted her head. "I'm Aether-Touched. My lifespan could be thousands of years. Long? Everything's relative."
"But he—Ghei—chose not to want long. Not at all."
"And that's his choice."
"Yes." Aelia closed the book. "But his choice… changed all of us."
Kael, former informal leader of Neovita, now guarded the Empty Monument.
The monument stood in the city center—not a statue of Ghei, because he would never want that. Just an empty space surrounded by low walls, with a plaque reading:
"For those who chose to leave, and reminded us that we can choose."
Many people came. Some angry—"He killed our god!" Some grateful—"He freed us!" Most confused—"Now what?"
One afternoon, a young woman—formerly intending to hang herself, her neck scars now faded—approached Kael.
"I want to die," she said flatly. "But now I'm afraid."
Kael looked at her. "You wanted to die before. Then Devaros gave you a second life. Now you want to die again?"
"Not… that." She sat at the edge of the monument. "Back then, when I tried to hang myself, it was because of pain. Unbearable pain. Now… the pain is gone. But life still feels… empty."
"And you think death will fill that emptiness?"
"No. But at least I wouldn't have to feel it."
Kael sighed. He remembered his conversation with Ghei—short, sharp, honest.
"He told me," Kael said slowly, "'Life or death—choose one, then live with the consequences. What makes you miserable is being stuck in between.'"
The woman stared at him. "So you're telling me to kill myself?"
"No. I'm telling you to decide. And if you choose life—then live. Don't do it half-heartedly."
"But how?"
"I don't know." Kael smiled bitterly. "I'm still figuring it out too."
Flashback—in Aelia's memory:
She was 17, standing on a high cliff in her original world. Wind whipped her hair. Below, a river roared.
She didn't jump.
Not because she feared death—but because she feared failing at death.
Defective. Lying in bed. Being a burden.
So she chose another way—entered the Memory-Blood Forest, touched the golden leaf, hoping to be trapped in others' memories forever.
And she succeeded.
A hundred years trapped.
Until someone with nothing in their hand freed her.
Now she was free. And the question remained the same: for what?
That night, under the light of Luna Nihil, Aelia brought Ghei's notebook to the Silent Steppes. She sat where she had first met Ghei after being freed from the crystal.
She opened a blank page at the back, took a pen.
And began to write.
"I was trapped for a hundred years.
You freed me.
Then you left.
I am not angry.
Just confused.
You taught me we have the right to stop.
But you did not teach me how to decide when to stop, or when to continue."
She paused, looking at the sky.
Those two moons—Veritas and Nihil—like two choices: keep seeking truth, or accept nothingness.
Perhaps, she thought, the answer was not to choose one.
Perhaps the answer was to hold both, and continue walking while carrying that contradiction.
The next day, she found Kael again.
"I'm leaving," she said.
"Where?"
"I don't know. Explore Nyania. See what's changed after the god died. Maybe write. Like him." Aelia held the notebook. "Not to be famous. Just… to leave traces."
Kael nodded. "You're searching for meaning."
"No. Just searching… for activity. So I'm not idle."
"Good." Kael looked at the empty monument. "If you find something… tell me."
"Something like what?"
"A reason not to jump off a cliff."
Aelia smiled—truly, for the first time since being freed. "I will search."
Aelia's journey began.
She went to the Memory-Blood Forest—its golden leaves now wilted, the memories within fading. To the Shattered Crystal Mountain—the temple collapsed, Sisa gone. To places she had once avoided out of fear.
And at every place, she wrote.
Not in books—but in letters to Ghei that would never be read.
"In the Memory-Blood Forest, I met an old spirit who remembered you. He said you walked like the wind—leaving no traces, but changing the course of everything you passed."
"In Neovita, people are still confused. But some have begun planting gardens. Building houses not just for hiding. They are learning to live, not just exist."
"Lyra says Aetheria has changed. Other gods are afraid. They fear humans will learn gods can be killed. But they are also curious—without gods, will humans crumble or will they grow?"
The letters were sent nowhere. Written, then burned. Smoke rose to the sky, toward the two moons watching silently.
One night, a strange dream came.
Aelia dreamed of the Liminal Veil—the gray place. But it was not Ghei she saw.
She saw herself, still trapped in crystal, tapping from inside.
And outside the crystal, a shadow of Ghei stood, watching her.
In the dream, the shadow said:
"You are free. Now your choice: return to the comfortable crystal, or walk in the painful but living world."
Aelia replied in the dream:
"I am afraid."
"Good. That means you are still alive."
Then she woke.
Cold sweat. But also… relief.
Weeks later, she returned to Neovita.
The city had changed. Still somber, but now with color. Flowers in windows. Paintings on walls. Even a small stage in the square—someone played music on a strange instrument.
Kael welcomed her with warm tea.
"You're back."
"For now," Aelia said. "I have a job."
"What?"
"Teaching children—children born of the resurrected—reading and writing."
Kael was surprised. "We have children?"
"Apparently yes. Some couples here had children after their second life. They grew up normally. Not like us, traumatized."
"And you will teach them?"
Aelia nodded. "I will teach them that life has many choices. Including the choice to stop. But also the choice to continue."
"Aren't you afraid they'll choose to stop?"
"I'd be afraid if they chose without understanding. But if they understand… it is their right."
Like Ghei, she thought. He understood. So their choice was valid.
First day of teaching.
The children—five of them, ages six to ten—sat in a circle in the room that had once been a warehouse.
"Tell us about a hero!" a boy said.
"Hero?" Aelia smiled. "I don't know heroes. But I know someone who… was honest."
"Honest?"
"Yes. Honest that he did not want to live. And he did something about it."
"Was that brave?"
"I think so. But not the kind of bravery you usually hear about."
The children listened. Their eyes full of questions—not suffering like their parents' generation, but curiosity.
"Should we be like him?" a girl asked.
"Not necessarily. You may want to live. You may want to die. You may be confused. What matters… is being honest with yourself."
The first lesson was over.
When the children left, Aelia sat alone, looking at Ghei's notebook, now almost full with her own writings.
On the last page, she wrote:
"He left like dust.
I remain like roots.
Perhaps both are valid.
Perhaps life is not about being a hero or a victim.
But about choosing what kind of dust or roots we want to be.
And accepting the consequences."
She closed the book.
Outside the window, the two moons began to shine—Veritas and Nihil, truth and nothingness, side by side as always.
Perhaps, Aelia thought, that was Ghei's final lesson: we may choose which side feels closer, but we must acknowledge that both exist.
And for now, she chose to stay close to Veritas—keep searching, keep questioning, keep living.
But with respect for those who choose Nihil.
Because in a world full of coercion, choice—whatever it may be—is the last luxury.
"Ghei,
I am still here.
Still alive.
Sometimes happy.
Sometimes in pain.
But at least now it's my choice.
Thank you for reminding me that choice exists.
Rest well.
Or rest not.
Whatever it is, I hope you are at peace."